


A Scientist's Inquiry

by petrichor3145



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred and Matthew are twins, Alfred might have ADHD, Arthur is bad at science, Human AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 01:11:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14863820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petrichor3145/pseuds/petrichor3145
Summary: Alfred is running from tyrannical math teachers due to... extraneous circumstances. When he finds a surprise waiting for him in the form of the stuffy, sweater-vest wearing Arthur Kirkland, he just might find more than he bargained for.





	A Scientist's Inquiry

Alfred peered around the corner nervously. His school had a strict no-students-after-school policy. Alfred knew of it well, but, in typical Alfred-esque fashion, he had forgotten to put away his math homework before the bell rang. Having reluctantly sneaked back into the building to retrieve it, he had found the homework, but also caught the eye of one particularly strict Algebra teacher in the math hallway.

Just his luck, of course.

In what may have also been karma or the universe expressing its hatred towards him, Alfred heard the steady sound of rain pelting the rooftop and getting louder by the second, as if punishing him. Like the teachers weren’t enough.

Alfred, sensing the coast was clear, turned to a wide hallway with massive windows taking the place of the opaque, grey walls. He was almost in awe of the view of normally sun-streamed windows showcasing the dark, almost black clouds and the sword-tipped droplets of rain splattering on every inch of exposed glass.

At the end of the hallway was a single door. The science supply room. Alfred figured he could hide in there until he was sure the coast was clear, then hopefully make his way back down to the first floor and out the building. Luckily, Alfred possessed a key, being particularly proficient and willing to fetch supplies in his science class. He fumbled with his backpack for a moment in search of it.

Just as he felt the cool metal of the key, however, he heard footsteps, gradually getting louder. They were the clacking of 6-inch heels, the ones only secretaries and scary female math teachers wore. Alfred broke into a run to reach the door, jamming the key into the lock, missing once, twice, until finally, the door flew open, almost hitting Alfred in the face as he twisted the door shut as quickly as possible without making too much noise.

Alfred sighed in relief. Math teachers were like sharks; they only came for you when you were in their way. Make yourself scarce and they’ll search for other prey.

“Excuse you?” Asked a voice coated in a British accent and incredulity.

Alfred turned to see Arthur Kirkland, wearing a lab apron which said “I would have made a science joke here but I dendrite one!” over a stuffy green sweater-vest.

Arthur was the most uptight guy Alfred ever had the displeasure of knowing. In addition, he looked sort of cute when he was annoyed (which was probably almost every second of his life), which only served to make Alfred hate him more. What was perhaps most confusing, though, was why Arthur, infamous worst science student the school had ever seen, was in the science supply closet, mingling with dangerous chemicals he shouldn’t have been allowed within a 10-mile radius of.

Which was what he was doing; Arthur was carrying two vials of liquid, one murky-green one which looked like mixed paint, and one fizzy orange one which was worryingly showing the early signs of a chemical reaction.

“What are you doing? You aren’t supposed to be in here,” Alfred said, to which Arthur looked down, his face turning red.

“Well-the teacher said I could use some extra help, with chemistry and all that, and so he was going to show me how to label and organize the chemicals.”

Alfred doubted Mr. Baxter would be insane enough to leave Arthur alone in a room with things which could potentially blow up. “So where is he? And what did you do to that orange stuff?” Alfred asked, grabbing the vial and cradling it for the sake of both their safeties. Who knew Arthur couldn’t make something blow up just from touching it?

Arthur glared and said, “Nothing, you twit. I just took the lid off so I could see what it smelled like.”

Alfred had been following the same train of thought. Bringing it up near his nose, he took a whiff of the scent.

And promptly coughed up a lung. “Jesus,” cough, “Arthur, this stuff could-” cough, “kill you!”

Setting it on a nearby shelf, Alfred doubled over, trying to expel the burning from his lungs. His nose felt like it was on fire, just from a small portion of the vile chemical.

Once he was done coughing, he found the lid and recapped it, turning to see Arthur looking fairly guilty. “Sorry. I--didn’t know it was that bad.”

“Where did you find it?” Alfred asked, flinching when Arthur pointed to the section labeled “DO NOT TOUCH.”

“What part of “do not touch” don’t you get?” Alfred asked. However, he felt sympathetic when Arthur drew his shoulders into himself and looked down, muttering another “sorry” under his breath.

“Well, I guess the label was hard to spot. No hard feelings,” Alfred said, raising his eyebrows in surprise when Arthur looked up with a small smile on his face, meeting Alfred’s eyes with his own green ones.

It was then that Alfred concluded this: however cute Arthur might look when scolding him or just generally looking like his perpetually grumpy self, he was at least ten times cuter when he was looking at Alfred and smiling shyly.

Alfred resolved to keep this new revelation to himself.

When Arthur recovered from his new-found goodwill, he said, “So, you never told me why you’re here. You’re not allowed in the halls after school if you’re not under teacher supervision.”

Alfred neglected to point out that Arthur wasn’t technically being supervised at that moment either and instead half-whispered, “Well, don’t tell anyone, but I forgot my math homework so I came back in to get it. Undercover.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “So what are you doing here, then, Mr. 007?”

Alfred grinned and said, “Someone was on my tail. The person was catching up, so I ducked in here to rescue a civilian from himself before completing my mission.”

Arthur’s eyebrows said “unimpressed,” but he was grinning again, playfully this time. “I didn’t need any help, Alfred,” he said, not entirely convincing Alfred or sounding entirely convinced himself.

Alfred was about to contradict Arthur, citing the likely superiority of his own grades if Arthur needed extra help after school, when Mr. Baxter opened the door to see his best student and his worst student mingling like old friends.

Alfred, disregarding school hierarchies, immediately slung his hand around the teacher’s shoulder and turned him so he wasn’t facing Arthur, whispering, “Mr. Baxter, why did you think it was okay to leave Arthur alone? He could’ve died, or, or killed you by accident!”

Mr. Baxter, one of the most lenient teachers Alfred had ever met, laughed and said, “I hardly think he could have died while I was on bathroom break for a minute or two.”

Alfred just gave him a flat look and pointed to the orange liquid, resting innocently on a shelf now that it wasn’t being exposed to the air so much. “He was messing with that.”

Mr. Baxter gasped shortly. “Well, then, I’m glad you came in to help, boy. He could’ve burnt himself with that!”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Alfred said.

Alfred heard Arthur say, “What was that?” And wheeled back around to face him again. Arthur’s arms were crossed and his face was indignant.

“Nothing!” Alfred said, a pitch too high, “We were just discussing the proper care of the materials in this room. Don’t worry, Mr. Baxter isn’t gonna leave you alone in here again, right, teach?”

Mr. Baxter, glancing nervously between Arthur and the mysterious orange liquid, merely nodded and said, “Correct. Alfred, why don’t you walk Arthur home? It looks like a doozy out there.”

Alfred nodded and slung his arm around Arthur’s shoulders, walking him out of the room and conveniently avoiding the pleasant chill the action gave him.

“I can do it myself, twit,” Arthur said, glaring at Alfred in a way which should have been threatening, not attractive. Alfred noticed he didn’t shrug out of the position, though.

The two made their way down a flight of stairs, making light conversation. Alfred said “light” and not “polite” because… “Alfred, I don’t know how you got yourself into the situation in the first place, I mean, just get a folder and then you’ll remember not to leave homework on your desk, it’s not that hard-”

Arthur stopped berating Alfred when his eyes caught a random point to the left of Alfred and he stopped walking, putting on a polite smile. “Matthew! It’s nice to see you here.”

Alfred turned to see his brother, leaning against a locker and reading some wildlife book. Oh, right. Matthew had promised they’d walk home together because Alfred had forgotten his umbrella. It seemed he’d forgotten something else, as well.

Matthew looked up and smiled as well, greeting Arthur with a soft pat on the shoulder and a quiet, “Hello.”

The two proceeded to start a conversation about sewing or some other lame hobby the two shared. Alfred zoned out the exact words being said, but he didn’t fail to observe the look on Arthur’s face. It was of restrained eagerness. His face was happy in a way Alfred rarely saw in their only shared class, one Arthur was probably failing and had no interest in.

It occurred to Alfred that it wasn’t fair. Clearly, his brother also shared some class or other with Arthur, and the two got along better than Alfred did with Matthew half the time. Of course, they were brothers, but still. It wasn’t fair that his brother was the only one of them who got to see this side of Arthur, the one in his comfort zone. In his element. Heh.

So Alfred watched for a long while, the way he giggled when Matthew made a joke, even though it wasn’t that funny, or elbowed Matthew from time to time. It was even more odd that the person Arthur was having such a good conversation with was him, only it wasn’t, it was a carbon copy of Alfred, and he saw his twin perfectly well.

So eventually, Alfred interjected. “Well, Matt, it’s been nice seeing you, but I’m supposed to take Arthur home today to make sure he stays out of trouble. I’ll meet you at home later. Thanks for waiting.”

With that, he grabbed Arthur by the elbow and nudged him towards the door. When Matthew called, “Don’t you want an umbrella?” He responded, “Don’t need one,” not turning around.

Alfred hated to admit it, but he was hurt. Why was it Arthur would only lecture him, yet he could smile so freely when it was Mattie? Why did it hurt so much more to be given a glare and a lecture after seeing Arthur getting along just fine with someone who looked just like him? It had to be Alfred’s personality. It had always gotten him more attention than his twin, both good and bad. Bad, in Arthur’s case.

Alfred found he couldn’t muster up a smile. It was times like this he regretted being an open book, didn’t know how to control his emotions. Maybe that was why Arthur hated him.

Trapped inside his own head and unable to stop his own thoughts from spiraling, Alfred barely heard Arthur say, “Guess you can use my umbrella.”

He nodded silently, not having met Arthur’s eyes since they ran into Matthew.

They walked in silence, Arthur leading the way to his house. Alfred was staring at his shoes, hating how he felt that for every second he spent not talking, Arthur would hate him more, but every second which went by would render him more speechless. Really, he knew he was overreacting. So Arthur hated him. He barely knew the guy! Still, the thought weighed him down as the awkwardness settled in the depths of the umbrella.

“Would you like to borrow my umbrella for your walk home?” Arthur asked.

Alfred shook his head. “I’ll be fine,” he said, angry at himself.

Arthur dipped down, trying to get a glimpse of Alfred’s expression. “What’s wrong with you, mate?” He asked, brows furrowed in concern.

“I’m fine,” Alfred said in a way that was decidedly not-fine. In fact, at that particular moment, he was wishing to be anywhere except for in the general vicinity of anyone else. Especially Arthur.

Alfred had had enough humiliation for one day.

“You don’t look fine,” Arthur said, persistent in the face of adversity.

Alfred growled, self-pity devolving into anger. “I don’t know!” He shouted, angry but not willing to place the blame on Arthur.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, before Arthur could react. Alfred hated how sorry he was, because it meant he cared about Arthur, solid proof of his feelings. He was sure Arthur liked Matthew better than him. Why would Arthur care?

“Come now, Alfred. What’s wrong?” Arthur asked, worried, then, for reasons Alfred couldn’t understand.

“Why do-” Alfred started off, much too quietly to be heard. He tried again. “Do you hate me?” He asked, sentence ending with an inhale made against his own will. His body, even, was turning against Alfred, it seemed.

Chancing a look at Arthur, all he found was confusion. So Alfred elaborated, “It’s just, you always lec-lecture me, and you like Mattie so much. I thought, you know, maybe you just hate my personality.”

Arthur stared at him, open-mouthed. After a moment, he stopped walking, prompting Alfred to do so as well, and grabbed Alfred’s hand with red cheeks. Looking into Alfred’s eyes even as they flitted to their intertwined hands, shocked, he said, “Alfred, I have never, ever hated you. I promise you, just because I’m friends with Matthew doesn’t mean I like you any less. I haven’t been comparing you two. And Alfred, for the record, I would never think of Matthew the same way I think of you.”

All Alfred could think to do in the face of his own brain, clouded by sorrow, and Arthur’s earnest eyes which didn’t hesitate to meet his own, was to say, clear as day but meekly, “Promise?”

Arthur’s serious expression collapsed and he broke out in a smile, the biggest all day. Alfred noticed the freckles on his nose and the curvature of his eyes and his pale hair, blonde like amber wheat. “I think that’s the most childish thing you’ve said all day,” he said, and gave Alfred’s hand a squeeze before breaking into a run towards a nearby house.

As he left, he called, “I expect you to return my umbrella!”

And just like that, Alfred could breathe again.


End file.
